


A No-Bull Endeavour

by wavewright62



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon, Puns & Word Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavewright62/pseuds/wavewright62
Summary: Michael & Mikkel Madsen have an early morning conversation.
Relationships: Mikkel Madsen & Michael Madsen II
Comments: 11
Kudos: 16





	A No-Bull Endeavour

**Author's Note:**

> Posted for the canon birthday of Mikkel (and of course, his twin Michael). Primarily fluffy banter, but also a fleeting reference to the views of the Danish populace to the idea of reclaiming the mainland, culminating in the massacre of Kastrup approx Y80.  
> Was Michael there? We don't know. I have speculated he was in other stories, but I neither maintain a firm headcanon nor have attempted to fit this story within any timeline that I've written in the past. This story exists solely to introduce terra-bull puns.

The early morning sun streamed into the milking shed on the Madsen farm. The two eldest Madsen boys, Mikkel and his twin Michael, yawned and chatted as they went about their morning chores with the cows.

“Well, no, in pre-Rash society there was a lot of concern surrounding climate change. Some of that was from carbon emissions, and even,” Mikkel slapped the flank of the cow he was milking, “methane emissions from cows.”

“You’re kidding me.” Michael scoffed.

“It’s a true story,” Mikkel shook his head as he milked. “I was reading about it the other day.”

“Hmm, I know about those true stories of yours, they’re usually, to put it mildly, bullshit.” He grimaced as the cow he was grooming raised her tail and emitted a great pile of manure onto the ground next to him. He scolded the cow, “I didn’t ask you. Also, you’re not a bull.”

Mikkel chuckled. “Or such.”

“Where did you read that, anyway? I thought you’d read everything in the town library.”

“I have. This was in the newspaper, a review of a video they’ve recovered from an ancient computer. The skalds in Iceland did.” Michael simply grunted in response. “I wouldn’t mind learning how to do that someday,” Mikkel continued.

“Is that why you’ve been studying Icelandic so much lately? I thought you were staying here on the farm.”

Mikkel hummed. “What made you think that, brother of mine? I thought you were too busy trying to join the military to notice what I was doing.”

“I thought you’d stay here.”

“You’re the oldest.”

“You’re the strongest.”

“You’re better with the girls.”

“You’re faster milking them.”

“They don’t talk back.”

“They don’t use stupid big words.”

“And, that,” Mikkel stood up, “is why I should go be a skald.” He emptied the bucket of milk into the canister. “Martin seems happy enough staying here, at least so far. So, what’s your plan?”

“I don’t really have one,” Michael sighed, leaning on his shovel. “I was just talking to Jan in the village, and he was talking about going over to Øresund and talking to his great-uncle. He’s the admiral over there.”

Mikkel set his stool next to the next cow in line. “I know that. I meant your plan to tell Papa you’re going.”

Michael shrugged. “I was thinking I’d get Maja to tell Mamma, and she’d tell him. By that time I’ll be enlisted.”

“Coward. Doomed to failure. Grandma, maybe?” Both Michael and Mikkel shrugged.

“Cow-ard, eh? I think it’s a no-bull thing.”

Mikkel chuckled. This was an old game. “Consider-a-bull. In the military, you could use a bomb-in-a-bull weapons against trolls.”

“Execra-bull.” He picked up a shovelful of manure from the stall and waved it at Mikkel.

“Enough.” Both boys were startled as their father spoke. The shovelful of manure Michael was waving splatted onto the concrete milking pad. The cow Mikkel was milking lowed. “What’s this about the military?”

Mikkel bent his head to the cow’s teats. Michael cleared his throat. “Uh, hello, umm papa, yes. Well, I thought...”

“Are you thinking of going to Øresund? I hear they’re always looking for keen men and women, and there’s talk of going to claim the mainland back for Denmark in a couple of years.” Morten Madsen picked up the canister of milk, replacing it with a clean bucket. “You should go.”

“Yes, papa?,” Michael looked at Mikkel, but the latter still had his head down.

“Absolutely. I’d be embarrassed if two strapping lads like you didn’t go do our country proud. Jensen’s sending both his boys, and his two oldest girls.”

“That’s,” Michael licked his lips, “I mean, yes, I’d like to go.”

“Good, it’s settled. Both of you. I’ll tell Jensen you’ll go in with his lot, next week.”

Mikkel’s head snapped up. “Me? _I’m_ not that-”

“ _Especially_ you. In the army you’ll learn not to sass your bosses all the time. Now I can’t get the bakery to even _think_ about taking Maja on as an apprentice after having to deal with you.” Morten shook his head. “You got my grandmother’s sharp tongue.”

As Morten hauled the canister out of the barn, Michael chuckled to a sombre Mikkel, “Yeah, but you got _my_ good looks.”

“Hmph. I would say you got mine.”

“Oh no! Now I’ll have to grow sideburns!”

“That would be prefera-bull, assuming you’re capa-bull.”

“They don’t get to wear capes in the military.”

"An intracta-bull pity...."

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, they are exchanging puns in English. *shrug* Forgive me, I don't know enough Danish puns. I don't know _any_ Danish puns. *waves hands in circles* Imagine they are engaging in clever banter, in Danish, okay? Anyway, happy birthday, boys.


End file.
